See You Space Cowboy
by Vicky Ocean
Summary: Jack resigns and disappears to explore the darker corners of his past. The rest of SG1 tries to keep things together in the wake of tragedy. Major Character Death.
1. Prologue

A/N- The title is taken the tag line of Cowboy Bebop (my all time favorite anime). Jack has always reminded me of Spike a little. I was into Bebop first so it's not the other way around. I've always been interested in the darker side of Jack that you see glimpses of now and then. They say still waters run deep and Jack has a lot churning under the surface. The Jack in this fic will probably be a little darker than the Jack in my other fics. I'm experimenting to see what happens when Jack is forced to leave everything he cares about behind and how the rest of SG-1 copes with his absence. Also look for the random crossover characters and locations (I love crossover cameos). A No Prize for who spots them (you Marvel people know what I mean). Oh, yeah the quotes at the beginning of each part are from Roger Clyne songs from the Refreshments and the Peacemakers. So many of his songs scream Jack to me. That's enough rambling from me, so on with the story.

Season 5- AU after Desperate Measures

**Warnings: Major character deaths (eventually); Sam/Jack UST**

---

**See You Space Cowboy**

**Prologue**

_---_

_So forgive me Father if I have sinned,_

_But the old wood cracks before it bends_

_Sin Nombre, _The Refreshments

---

'Dear George,

I can call you George now, seeing how you have my letter of resignation on your desk. Maybe I'm a coward for not handing this to you personally, but I know you'll try to talk me out of this. Just like I tried to talk you out of your resignation. Trust me. This is for the best. I'm a tired old man with bad knees and it's time for me to retire. I'll only get someone hurt if keep going through the Gate like this.

Carter's ready for her own command. She's been ready for a while. I've probably held her back. I recommend that she get SG-1, but I doubt the brass will go for that. If you have to have a Bird, Dave Dixon is a good choice. He'll look after my kids like they were his own. He's got a twisted sense of humor. They'll like that.

It's been an honor, sir.

Jack O'Neill

PS- Just let me go. You won't find me."

"I don't believe it, sir," Major Samantha Carter carefully set the letter down on the table and looked up at her commanding officer. "Colonel O'Neill wouldn't just resign like this."

"I agree, General Hammond," Teal'c said. "Something is amiss. We must find O'Neill immediately."

"I'm not sure that's wise, Teal'c," General Hammond told him in a tone that could only be described as weary. "I doubt we could find him if we wanted to." He stared down at the letter scrawled in Jack's bold hand, before turning his attention back to the pair before him. "I'm sure you both want to get back to the hospital."

Sam gave him a hard searching look at his effective dismissal. "Yes, sir," she said grudgingly and turned to leave the conference room.

Teal'c gave the General a brief nod and followed her out.

---


	2. Part 1

**See You Space Cowboy**

**Part 1**

---

'_Now don't tell me that part of the story when the cowboy falls in love_

_When he traded in his pistol and his saddle and the stars above'_

_Sin Nombre, _The Refreshments

_---_

Jack O'Neill leaned back on the bench relishing the sun as he waited for his companions to return. Yojimbo was lounging at his feet also enjoy the sun and resting after some fun with the Frisbee. Jack let his eyes slide close and felt his body relax and unwind further. It had been a hell of a week. One he hoped never to live through again. Carter had been kidnapped and experimented on by deranged doctors employed by the dying billionaire, Adrian Conrad. He'd been forced to team up with Maybourne to find her. Hanging out with Maybourne was not top on his list of fun past times, but they'd found her just in time. Then the bastard had shot him and his arm was in a sling because of it. Jack allowed a smile when he thought of all the horrible ways he was going to make Maybourne suffer next time he came across him.

Yoji gave a happy bark when he saw Cassie and Carter returning. Jack opened his eyes and watched his two favorite girls walking up the path to him bearing snow cones. Though Carter would probably sock him if he actually referred to her as 'his girl'. They sat on either side of him and Carter handed his cone to him.

"Sorry, sir. They were out of beer flavored," she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"S'okay, I can handle grape."

It was good to see Carter relaxed and knew he was probably grinning inanely. He was just so glad to see the haunted look in her eyes gone. It lingered there throughout her stay in the infirmary for observation after her ordeal. It's no wonder after being poked and prodded like a lab rat for nearly a week. He'd be a little jumpy around doctors too, even if it was Doc Frasier. That was one of the reasons he'd allowed himself to stay an extra day in the infirmary. It wasn't really necessary with his wound, but he didn't want to leave her alone. He already was guilt ridden over the fact that nobody missed her for over 48 hours.

Jack took a bite of his snow cone and let it melt on his tongue, savoring the tart flavor. He ate a couple more spoonfuls of his before turning his attention to Carter's. "Whatcha got there, Carter?"

"Tiger's blood," she answered.

"Sounds morbid, but is it tasty?"

"I like it. You wanna bite, sir?"

"Thanks. I will." Jack dug his spoon in her cone and then ate the heaping spoonful of shaved ice. "Pretty good. You want some grape?" He held his cone out to her and she scooped up some.

"Thanks, sir."

They dipped into each other's snow cones until Jack became curious about what Cassie had. He elbowed her with his good arm. "Whatcha got, Cass?"

"You wouldn't like it," she told him.

"How do you know?"

"It's butterscotch."

"Ugh."

"Told ya."

"You got that on purpose."

"'Course I did. I know what a food thief you are," Cassie smirked at him.

"That's no way to treat your ol' Uncle Jack," he groused. She shrugged still smirking and concentrating on her butterscotch snow cone. "Kids these days," he muttered. He turned his attention back to Carter and reached over to steal a spoonful of her cone. She was laughing silently to herself. "What're you giggling about?"

"You don't have anyone to blame but yourself, sir."

"Werf!"

They looked down at Yojimbo waving the Frisbee at them. Looked like it was playtime again. "Cassie, go play with your hound. I'm wounded. He wore me out earlier."

"You're just getting old, Jack."

"You're just getting to be a smart ass, Cass."

"Yeah, well, I learned from the best," she responded, tossing her empty cup into the trash. She jumped up off the bench and grabbed the frisby from Yojimbo. She took off running across the park and her dog was close at her heels.

Jack and Carter sat in comfortable silence as they finished their snow cones and watch Cassie play with Yojimbo. Jack couldn't help the contented smile that crossed his lips.

"What?" Carter questioned seeing his smile.

"It's just… this is nice."

"Yes. Yes. It is," she smiled at him and it sent a flood of warmth through him. They were silent again for a while until Carter said quietly, "Thank you, sir."

"For what?"

"Coming after me."

He looked down at his feet. "I should have been quicker. I'm sorry."

"Sir…"

He looked back at her.

"You got there in time. That's all that matters."

He held her gaze. "I don't know what I would have done if-"

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

The sound was unmistakable and in such a peaceful setting as the park Jack's blood ran cold. They tore across the hill. On the other side of the hill was Cassie tears streaming down her face, covered in blood, and pitifully clutching her dead dog to her chest .

---

The Colonel's pacing was making Sam nervous. They had been assured Cassie would be fine by both the ER doctor and Janet, but still he continued to pace as if waiting to hear the worst. "Sir…"

He spun to face her at the sound of her voice. His face was blank, the normal impassive mask he wore through thick and thin, but his eyes were full of pain and worry.

"She's going to be fine, sir. It was just a flesh wound."

"I know, Carter," he said and slumped into the chair next to her, heaving a weary sigh. "It's just…" he trailed off and stared at his hand in his lap. He took a deep breath before continuing. "It's just that I feel like I've done this all before and I can't help but think about how that turned out."

Sam unable to ignore the despair and pain in his voice reached out and grasped his good hand. He looked up at her and gave her a small grateful smile. "It's not going to turn out like that, sir. Cassie's going to be okay."

"I know that in my mind but…" he shrugged. "I was so scared when I heard those shots. It was almost like de-ja-vu. Today had been a good day. I was happy today and it was all ruined by some psycho that I doubt they'll ever catch. And poor Yojimbo. I gave him to Cassie in that park."

"I know," she squeezed his hand tighter and resisted the urge to pull him into a hug.

The Colonel's cell phone began to ring and he let go of her hand to fish it out of his pocket. "O'Neill… Yes, this is Colonel Jack O'Neill… He what!… We're already here… We'll be down there in a minute." He clicked his phone shut and turned to her. "Daniel's been in a car accident. They're just bringing him in now."

Sam was on her feet immediately. "Is he okay?"

"I don't know."

---

Jack almost wished he still smoked. He could certainly use a cigarette right now. The waiting room had begun to feel even more oppressive as they waited for word on Daniel's condition and he had to escape outside. He made his way across the parking lot to a gazebo provided for the smoking hospital visitors. Thankfully no one appeared in need of a nicotine fix and it was deserted. He didn't feel fit for company at the moment.

Jack didn't know how long he's been sitting there when he spotted a figure heading towards the gazebo. He ground his teeth when he recognized the man as Colonel Frank Simmons, NID.

"Rough day, Colonel O'Neill?" he asked in a rather chipper voice.

"You could say that. Why are you here?"

"Has anyone ever told you you're very impatient?"

Jack glared at him in answer, really wishing he had his gun handy.

"Fine. I've come to offer you a deal."

"No, thanks, " Jack said, standing.

"But you haven't even heard it yet."

"I don't want to." He began walking away.

"Would you like another day like today, perhaps one a little more deadly."

Jack turned slowly. "What are you saying?"

"You know what I'm saying. You just rescued Major Carter from an unfortunate incident. Maybe you won't be so lucky next time."

"Are you threatening my team?"

"Yes. And you friends. It could just as easily been the alien girl dead instead of the dog today. You won't be able to protect them all every moment of the day."

"What's the deal?"

"You have twenty four hours to leave the country and disappear."

---

Sam knew she should be sleeping but she also knew she wouldn't be able to. Janet had ordered her out of the infirmary. She had been at Daniel's bedside since he had been moved there yesterday afternoon. Teal'c had taken over her vigil with a promise to send for her when Daniel awoke.

She couldn't get her mind off the Colonel and his impromptu disappearance. She was certain the General understood more of what was going on than he let on. The words of his letter kept running though her mind. She was sure there was some clue in it but she just didn't have all the information.

Sam made her way to her lab instead of her quarters like she had promised Janet. She sat down heavily on her stool and flicked on her desk lamp.

She stared down at an envelope revealed by the beam of light. She should have known the Colonel would have left her a letter. 'Carter' was written across the front in his bold hand. She hesitantly opened the envelope half afraid of what she might find. Sam pulled the folded papers out and there was a key in the bottom. She pulled it out. It was an ordinary if rather worn brass house key. She unfolded the papers. The top sheet was just a plain white sheet of paper with the words 'I' m sorry.' scrawled on it and signed 'Jack'. She almost laughed at herself for expecting something longwinded from the Colonel. He had stated many times he was a man of few words and that was true, at least the heartfelt ones.

The next paper was a deed signed over to Samantha Carter for a sizable piece of property in Northern Minnesota. She couldn't stop the tears falling from her eyes. This proved he wasn't ever planning on returning. He would never abandon his beloved cabin and lake where fish grew 'THIS BIG'. The final piece of paper was a hand drawn map to the cabin.

Sam picked up the key and imagined the number of times he had held it, opening the door to his favorite place in the universe. She pulled her dog tags off and unsnapped the chain. She slid the key on and then replaced the tags around her neck, with key cool next to her skin.

---


	3. Part 2

**See You Space Cowboy**

**Part 2**

**---**

_Feelin' my way down a blue desert highway_

_Wish my rearview mirror could tell me a lie_

_Your Name on a Grain of Rice, _Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers

_---_

Jack had always liked driving. Being alone on a long stretch of highway was the closest you could get to flying without flying. Jack didn't like flying just to fly. He hated commercial flights, he hated flying in any plane with out being in pilot seat. Sara called him a control freak. Maybe he was, but being up there flying a plane made him feel in control and made him feel free. It made him felt like he could take off anywhere on a whim just because he felt like it. Well, theoretically he could as long as the fuel held out. Driving the open road felt the same to him. That was why he so often drove to Minnesota instead of hopping a flight that would get him there a lot quicker. Sometimes he didn't even make it to Minnesota, just allowing himself to travel down what roads his fancy took him.

No, Sara wasn't wrong when she'd accused him of being a control freak. He hated the thought of anyone else controlling his fate.He wasn't out of the country in twenty four hours. If he had flown he would have been, but he hadn't been able to give up that last little bit of control. Simmons had taken everything else away from him, Jack couldn't let him take that, too. So he drove.

---

George Hammond looked at the file before him, Dave Dixon's record had quite a few blacked out parts, not as many as Jack O'Neill's but still quite a bit. Jack and Colonel Dixon had worked together previously in their SpecOps days. In fact, Jack had recruited him for the SGC as he had many of their finest officers. Hammond liked the man. He was affable enough if more than a little on the gruff side, but he took care of his people and his people had a great deal of respect for him. He was a bit of a wild man in his younger days, but had calmed down considerably after his wife, a photojournalist had been severely injured covering Desert Storm. He had mended his ways and had settled down with her to have the four kids that he complained about endlessly but loved to pieces.

Hammond closed the file. He had to agree with Jack that Colonel Dixon would be good leader for SG-1. He believed Dixon would respect the unique talents and people that made up SG-1, be they women, scientists, or aliens.

George had no doubt that Major Carter would make an excellent commander, but Jack had been right in that the brass wanted a colonel in that position. She really deserved her own command, but he didn't think breaking up SG-1 would be wise at this point. They needed each other too much in the wake of Jack's absence.

"You sent for me, sir?"

Hammond looked up at the tall dark haired man in his door way. He wasn't quite at attention but he wasn't lounging in the doorway with his hands in his pockets as Jack might. "Yes, Colonel. Shut the door if you would."

Dixon nodded and shut the door before coming to stand in front of the general's desk still not at attention and not 'at ease' either.

"Have a seat, son." Hammond waited for the other man to sit down before continuing. "I'm sure you've heard about Colonel O'Neill's resignation."

"Yes, sir. What the hell's up with that? With all due respect, sir," he tacked on quickly, but George could understand his feelings. "His team needs him now and he's sitting on his ass by some murky pond in the back woods. I've got half a mind to head up there and beat some sense into him. Running away's not like Jack."

"I agree, Colonel." Hammond reached into his desk drawer and pulled out Jack's letter. "Read this."

Dixon took the letter and began to read.

'_Dear George,_

_I can call you George now, seeing how you have my letter of resignation on your desk. Maybe I'm a coward for not handing this to you personally, but I know you'll try to talk me out of this. Just like I tried to talk you out of your resignation. Trust me. This is for the best. I'm a tired old man with bad knees and it's time for me to retire. I'll only get someone hurt if keep going through the Gate like this. _

_Carter's ready for her own command. She's been ready for a while. I've probably held her back. I recommend that she get SG-1, but I doubt the brass will go for that. If you have to have a Bird, Dave Dixon is a good choice. He'll look after my kids like they were his own. He's got a twisted sense of humor. They'll like that. _

_It's been an honor, sir._

_Jack O'Neill_

_PS- Just let me go. You won't find me.'_

"Y'know, sir, I'm flattered Jack would want me to take over his team and he's got no damn room to talk about a twisted sense of humor. I still say it's not like Jack. That man is one stubborn son of a bitch, if you'll forgive my language. He wouldn't just give up like that because of a little knee trouble."

"Again, I agree with you. Colonel, what I'm about to tell you can not be shared with any one."

Dixon sat up a little straighter, "Of course, sir."

"I assume you remember when General Bower took over the SGC?"

"Unfortunately I do, sir. Wasn't far from taking an enforced down time myself."

"I won't go into details, but the reason I stepped down was because the NID threatened my family. Colonel O'Neill found evidence to hold over the NID and Senator Kinsey to get me reinstated."

"Now, the NID have threatened Jack's family."

General Hammond nodded. "While we don't have any evidence to tie Major Carter's abduction by Adrian Conrad and Cassandra's shooting to the NID, the police have found evidence of tampering on Dr. Jackson's car."

"Shit. No wonder Jack's high tailed it. You think he's gone after the NID, sir?"

"I don't know, Colonel."

"General, I got some contacts from the old days. You want me see what I can dig up?"

"Not yet. I trust Jack to do what he feels best, but I'd like you to keep a close eye on SG-1, that is if you're willing to take the command."

Dixon shrugged, "Sure, they're good people even if Major Carter and Doctor Jackson are a bit on the rambly side. Guess if I can tune out four whiny kids' voices I shouldn't any have any problems with whiney archeologists and Carter's technobabble."

"Glad to hear it, Colonel. Good luck."


	4. Part 3

**See You Space Cowboy**

**Part 3**

---

'_There's a man comin' over here_

_Sellin' silver and souvenirs_

_And I will pay full price _

_For your name on a grain of rice'_

_Your Name on a Grain of Rice, _Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers

_---_

Sam stared at the two hats on the top shelf of her locker, the Air Force issued olive drab cap and the slightly battered dark khaki baseball cap. Sam took a deep breath and reached for the cap she'd been issued. She jumped in shock, startled by a hand that snaked past her and grabbed the baseball cap. She swiveled to face her new CO, Colonel Dixon.

He stared down at the hat in his hands, "Y'know, Major, I know this hat isn't exactly within the dress code and all, but it suits you." He lifted his head and met her eyes with an understanding gaze. "You should wear it." He held it out to her.

She took the hat from his hand and responded gratefully, "Thank you, sir."

He nodded and watched as put it own, pulling brim low and forming it with both her hands. Dixon gave her a crooked smile, "Now you look ready to terrorize some Goa'uld… or Tok'ra."

He was rewarded with a small smile. The first he'd seen on her face since Jack had left.

---

Teal'c was already waiting in the Gate Room when they arrived. Dave watched as Teal'c quickly took in Major Carter's appearance, particularly her new hat. The Jaffa met his eyes and gave him a quick almost imperceptible nod of approval, before turning his attention back to the airmen packing up the supplies they were taking to the Alpha Site.

Dave breathed a sigh of relief. Accepted by two members of SG-1, one to go. Dr. Jackson had been downright hostile when General Hammond had informed the team of Dave's appointment as SG-1's CO. He had known Major Carter would professionally and graciously if not enthusiastically accept his command. Teal'c, he figured, would be a tougher nut to crack. He knew from his limited acquaintance with him that Teal'c was objective and perceptive. Dave figured as soon as he proved himself that he was a fair and honest leader himself, he would have Teal'c's support.

Daniel Jackson was another matter entirely. Dave really had no idea what to expect from him. From what he knew of him Dr. Jackson seemed to be a very intelligent and compassionate man. He just never figured him to be so… petulant. Sure, he understood that the injuries from his car accident were painful and he was kinda doped up on pain meds. It was also understandable he was shocked and hurt by Jack's sudden departure and disappearance. But, hell, he at least expected the archeologist to behave like an adult. Jimmy, his four year old, had acted more mature when his hamster got out and was later devoured by the neighbor's cat. Dr. Jackson was snide, difficult, and just down right childish. Both Carter and Teal'c called him on it several times during their initial briefing. God help him when Dr. Jackson was well enough to go on missions.

Dave was never really a man known for his patience and calm temper, but after fathering four kids with the same temperaments, not to mention their mother's sharp tongue, he was forced to gain a little patience and calm his temper. Either that or run away from home. Dave had managed not to use that option with his family and refused to run away from his responsibilities on SG-1 just because Dr. Jackson was prone to being childish.

He pulled himself out of his thoughts as the wormhole formed. He looked up at the control room and General Hammond spoke into the microphone, "SG-1, you have a go." Dave threw him a salute and walked up to Major Carter and Teal'c waiting at the end of the ramp. "We ready?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Indeed."

---

Jack sat down on the bed of his dingy hotel room. He stared down at the silver pendant in his hand. He knew he shouldn't have taken it, but he had wanted at least some memento of her. When Jack had left the envelope with the cabin's deed in Carter's lab, he had noticed the pendant attached to a broken chain lying on her lab table. He supposed she had brought it in to repair the chain, but hadn't gotten around to it. In a moment of sentiment he had picked up the eight pointed star and stuck it in his pocket. It glittered in his palm now as Jack examined it. There was a tiny diamond in the center where the engraved lines bisecting the points met. The points themselves were a little rounded giving it a slightly worn look. Carter must have worn this a lot he realized. In fact, he remembered seeing her wear it several times. He felt a twinge of guilt and hoped she wouldn't miss it too terribly. Jack picked up the simple silver chain he'd bought earlier at a local shop and slid the pendant onto it. He attached the chain around his neck and tucked in under his shirt next to his skin.

Then he reached into his duffle and pulled out a small pouch of beautifully hand woven fabric. Jack pulled the drawstring loose and dumped the contents in his hand. Daniel had given him the antique Tibetan prayer beads for his birthday this year. He had apparently thought the would be ideal for occupying Jack's fidgety hands. The beads were just plain wood stained and worn from years of wear and handling. Jack had found something oddly comforting about running the smooth beads between his fingers, but he'd never told Daniel that. Perhaps he should have. Jack wrapped the beads around his right wrist.

He stuck his hand into his bag again and pulled out a small wood box. He slid the lid off to reveal a knife of Jaffa design. Teal'c had given him the knife for Christmas his first year on Earth. Daniel later explained according to what he had learned of Jaffa custom, by gifting Jack with his knife, Teal'c had basically been swearing his allegiance to him personally. He picked the knife up out of the box and pulled the knife from it's sheath. The double blade was fierce looking, yet elegant. Jack slid the blade back home. He reached down and pulled up his pant leg and strapped the knife to his leg.

Heaving a deep sigh, Jack leaned back against the headboard and grabbed the bottle of tequila sitting on the nightstand.


	5. Part 4

**See You Space Cowboy**

**Part 4**

---

'_I can see the light all around your silhouette_

_Leave an open door behind you_

_My heart went running after you but ain't caught it yet_

_Leave an open door behind you'_

_Leave an Open Door, _Roger Clyne and the Pacemakers

_---_

Sam was stuck.

She had been burying herself in her lab work since the Colonel left and it felt as though she had accomplished less than nothing. She had been working on this same device the entire time and she kept thinking that she was over thinking it.

She glanced up at her doorway for the millionth time that morning. She kept hoping to see a familiar figure leaning against the doorframe with his hands stuck in his pockets, drawling out a "Whatcha doin'?" when she finally noticed his presence.

There was no one there though. No one to explain things too in simplistic terms, helping her get to the essence of her problem. Occam had nothing on Jack O'Neill.

Teal'c was off world at the moment. She was a little ashamed to admit she was avoiding Daniel, but she was tired of his incessant complaining about Colonel O'Neill's absence. He didn't seem to consider that other people missed him as well even though they were trying (and probably failing) to move on.

Sam saved the notes she wasn't really working on and headed to the commissary for a Jell-O break. Unfortunately the thought of Jell-O also brought to mind the Colonel.

Sam grabbed a blue Jell-O and settled down at an empty table.

"Can I brood with you?"

Sam looked up startled to see Colonel Dixon before her with an apple in his hand.

"Of course, sir."

Dixon plopped down across from her and stretched his long legs out on the chair next to his. "You really got to stop that."

"Sir?" she asked in confusion.

He took a huge bite out of his apple and she had to wait for him to finish chewing before he clarified. "You don't have to call me 'sir' and 'colonel'. It makes me feel like I'm a ninety year old general or something. I've never had a 2IC 'sir' me like you do."

"Colonel O'Neill never had a problem with it."

Dixon studied her shrewdly as he chewed another bite. "Yes, he did and we both know it. Those circumstances won't apply to us, so just call me Dave. Well, unless there's brass around or something. Okay, _Sam_?"

Sam mulled it over for a moment. Sam had called senior offices she work closely with by their first names before. It was really quite common in the Air Force. The constant 'sir-ing' of Colonel O'Neill served to remind them both of their positions. She knew there would be no need of that with Colonel Dixon. Dave.

"Okay, Dave."

He gave her a smile and chomped on his apple again. "How's Doctor Jackson?"

"Better. He's moving around now. Spending some time in his lab, but still-" she grimaced trying to think of a tactful word.

"Sulking?"

Sam shrugged helplessly. "Kinda. He'll come around."

"I'm sure," he said but Sam could tell he wasn't sure.

They sat in relatively comfortable silence for a while, Sam digging into her Jell-O and Dave munching on his apple. Finally she broke the silence, "Sir- Dave?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm kind of at a dead end on this device I'm working on. Would you mind if I bounce some ideas off of you?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "But I can promise I won't understand a word."

"That's okay. Colonel O'Neill always pretended not to."

---

Sam was back to work on her mysterious device with renewed concentration. Dave wasn't quite the sounding board that Colonel O'Neill had been but she appreciated his effort and patience.

"Hey."

She looked up at Daniel standing in her doorway. His arm was still in a cast and sling. The cuts on his face where almost healed now. She desperately hoped he wasn't here to whine about Colonel O'Neill again. She had quite enough to deal with her own emotions over his disappearance from their lives. Not that she had been dealing very well. She hadn't had a decent night's sleep since he left, her mind running endless over the possibilities of why he left and desperately hoping he was okay.

"Hey, Daniel. What's up?"

"Nothing. I just need a break. You want to head to the commissary for a snack?"

"I just had one. Sorry."

"Oh. That's okay." He sounded disappointed and Sam began to feel bad that she had been avoiding him.

"You got any plans for the weekend?"

"No. Why?"

"Dave and his wife invited us over for a cookout."

"Dave? Who's Dave?"

"Colonel Dixon. Kinda a team bonding meet the family kind of thing," she explained.

"Dave?" Daniel looked astounded. "You're calling him 'Dave'? Just like that? Five years and all you ever called Jack was 'sir' and 'Colonel'!"

Sam grit her teeth. She shouldn't have to explain why that was to him. "Daniel, you know why that was."

"I know Jack would have given his right arm just to hear you call him 'Jack' once. Do you even care he's gone? Hell, that's probably why he's gone. He could stand any more of your ice queen behavior."

"Daniel-"

"Doctor Jackson!" General Hammond's voice boomed in the lab. "In my office now!"

---

George Hammond glared at the man standing unrepentant in front of him. "Doctor Jackson, let me ask you a question. Do you have any idea what it's like for a woman in the military?" Jackson just glared at the wall unseeing. "However politically incorrect it is the Air Force is still very much a man's world. Major Carter has had to work twice as hard to get where she is than any man on this base. She also has to be twice as circumspect . The slightest rumor of impropriety could ruin her career. I shouldn't have to tell you how low some people would go to get their hands on this program. That includes delving into the personal lives of the officers under this command. Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter have always acted with the highest integrity. Despite everything we've seen, I've never had reason to doubt them. To be honest I don't know how they did it. I don't think I could have."

Hammond took a breath and studied the archeologist standing sullenly before him. "I understand you're hurt by the way Jack left, but you're not the only one. Teal'c and Major Carter have lost just as much as you and they hurt just as much as you. But they aren't acting like spoiled brats about it. They're trying to continue on with their lives and their work, just like Jack would have wanted. I suggest you do the same. Dave Dixon is a good man as you would find out if you gave him half a chance."

George fixed him with a steely glare and continued, "I'm only going to tell you this once, Doctor Jackson. If I hear you speak to Major Carter or any member of this command again with such disrespect and malice you will no longer have a place here. And you will apologize to Major Carter immediately. Is that understood?"

"Yes."

---

Jack was drunk.

Which of itself was nothing unusual. Drunk seemed to be his state of being these days. He had spent the past month driving aimlessly across Mexico. Well, in between binges and when he wasn't too hung over to drive.

He had never really been a big fan of Mexico. There were too many deserts and too much desert-like terrain. He hated the desert. He hated the sand and the sweltering heat. He hated the memories associated with deserts, the nine day trek with a cracked skull and the four months of pain and humiliation. He hated deserts. Maybe that was why he was never overly fond of the Tok'ra. They seemed to have a penchant for desert worlds. He didn't trust people that liked deserts.

Taking the drinking man's tour of Mexico was probably not what he should be doing. He should be planning, scheming, and taking down an evil government organization. He knew that was what everyone was expecting of him, but he didn't see how one man could do all that and protect his loved ones as well, even if he was the infamous Jack O'Neill. They were probably better off without him around anyway.

Jack took another sip of his tequila and glanced at the man who had been watching him for the last hour. He may have been drunk, but he still knew when he was being watched. The man had long dark brown hair and wore the unlikely combination of a printed T-shirt, running shorts, a sports coat, and leather gloves. Jack wondered if he was a tourist that had perhaps had his luggage lost or stolen. He couldn't image his interest in a drunk and defeated old man. Jack decided he didn't care and went back to contemplating the worm at the bottom of his bottle of tequila.

"You're Jack O'Neill."

He looked up at the man with the poor fashion sense now standing by table. "That's the rumor."

The man sat without being invited. "I could use a man of your talents."

"My talents?" Jack snorted. "What drinking myself into a stupor?"

"You're the Scarecrow, aren't you?" he smiled slightly.

"Who are you?" The man held open his jacket and pointed to his shirt. Jack read aloud, " 'You don't know me. CIA.' " He quirked an eyebrow and ran an appraising glance over him. "Are they that desperate these days?"

"A façade. You of all people should understand that, Scarecrow," the man lit a black cigarillo and took a long drag returning Jack's evaluating look. "Why are you here?"

Jack threw back the rest of his drink and slammed the glass down, "I killed a man and ran away with a senator's wife."

"I could use you here."

"I'm retired," Jack stood to leave.

"I can be very persuasive."

"Look, kid, there is absolutely nothing you can threaten me with. I haven't got anything left, except my own life. And if you take that away, then you'll be doing me a favor." He held out his arms in a gesture of surrender.

"I don't do favors."

Jack shrugged and picked the bottle off of the table, before walking away.


	6. Part 5

**See You Space Cowboy**

**Part 5**

---

'_No more bad knees_

_Postcards and picture frames_

_Adios, au revoir _

_I see now that I never saw'_

_Good Year, _The Refreshments

---

Sam knew she shouldn't be here, but she couldn't help it. She missed him so much. It wasn't even like Colonel O'Neill had died and she could go through the mourning process. He was just gone.

So here she was in the middle of the night wandering through his house with a glass of his best scotch. She felt really pathetic for being here, but she didn't want to return to her lonely house.

She had always thought that the Colonel's house was surprisingly comfortable and tastefully furnished for a guy. She had really never allowed herself take everything in before. Some of his furnishings were exotic and seemed to have been acquired while stationed in various parts of the world. There were models of planes and helicopters scattered around and various awards and medals lined the mantel. A picture of him with his ex-wife and son sat next to a group picture of SG-1 on an end table.

Sam wandered to the other end of the house towards the bedrooms and came to the stairs that led down to the basement. She had always wondered what was down there and decided to satisfy her curiosity.

To say she was shocked by what she found was an understatement. It seemed she had stumbled on the unknown inner world of Jack O'Neill. Most of the walls were covered in bookshelves. Along one wall was an old, slightly battered upright piano. How he got in the basement, she couldn't imagine.

She moved over to the piano and ran her fingers over the worn keys. She wondered if he actually played or it was just a family heirloom. He certainly had the hands of a piano player or artist.

On the top of the piano was a row of pictures. The first was a black and white picture of a man who looked very much like Jack except for the Clark Gable-like mustache. He was wearing an Army Air Corp uniform with his hat tipped rakishly and stood in front of a P-51 Mustang. He had his arm around a woman in a WASP uniform and leather flight jacket. The next picture was also a black and white of the couple standing under a flowering cherry tree. The man had was now wearing a Air Force uniform, his hat still rakish and the woman had a fifties style full skirted dress. In between them they held a baby. Jack and his parents she realized. The following picture seemed to be taken at an air show. Jack appeared to be about four and was sitting on his father's shoulders wearing a coon skin cap. His father was in a flight suit and had an arm around his wife whose hair was blowing wildly in the wind and had on her leather WASP jacket. After that was a faded color picture of a ten year old Jack standing on a small dock between an older couple, who must have been his grandparents. Then there was a picture of him holding Charlie as a newborn. He looked so happy it almost made Sam want to cry. The final picture was one of SG-1 and Cassie. It was taken during the 4th of July party he'd had this year. Everyone was smiling even Teal'c. Jack had arm around both Sam and Cassie and Daniel and Teal'c flanking the group. What she would give to go back to the day. She and the Colonel had flirted shamelessly all day long and after nearly everyone else had passed out spent half the night on his roof stargazing.

She moved on from the piano to a desk filled with computer equipment. _Liar_, she thought to herself. He always pretended to be so computer illiterate.

Sam opened a door beside the computer desk and found that it led to a storage room filed with boxes. She looked around briefly. Boxes were labeled all manner of things, 'Grandma's china', 'quilts', 'Dad's uniforms', 'comic books', 'MAD', 'Carter'-

Carter?

How odd. She stared at the flat box, wondering what it could be. She lifted the lid and found a note on top of the tissue paper covering whatever was beneath it. The note was short and simple as if she expected any more.

_Carter, _

_I guess if you're rooting through my stuff, something must have happened to me. This was my mother's. She would have wanted a fine pilot like you to have it._

_Jack_

Sam pulled back the tissue to reveal a brown leather flight jacket, an Army Air Corp patch on the shoulder and the Women's Airforce Service Pilots' Fifinella patch on the left breast; the jacket his mother had on in the photographs. She pulled it out of the box and examined it. 'Alice O'Neill' was written in faded ink on the liner. It was worn but in good condition and still wearable.

Sam sank to the floor and leaned against the boxes, holding the jacket tightly to her chest and allowed herself to cry for the first time in the two months he had been gone.

---

Jack was drunk again. At least he wasn't in Mexico anymore. No, he was sitting in a bar in the middle of frozen nowhere, called _The Last Shot_. Minnesota boy that he was he didn't mind the cold so much as the heat.

He hadn't been to the old Soviet Block countries since before the end of the Cold War. It was something of a rather disconcerting experience just to waltz right across the border and get his passport stamped. It was fascinating to see how things had changed or not changed. Daniel would have probably gotten a kick out of his observations. And Carter and Daniel both would have been fascinated by the research the Soviet scientists had conducted in this frozen corner of Kazakhstan. They believed they had established that the human soul was an electromagnetic field and that heaven and hell weren't really heaven and hell. They were just two sides of a tug of war and souls provided each side with fuel.

Carter, Daniel, and Teal'c. He didn't know if he could have missed them more if they were dead. Simmons had known what he was doing when he forced Jack into exile. It would have been a kinder thing just to kill him. But, no, he had wanted Jack to suffer. He bet Kinsey was behind it somewhere. He hoped his sacrifice was enough to keep them safe from the son of a bitch's machinations.

Jack laughed mirthlessly to himself, thinking he was on the verge of a messianic complex.

Carter, Daniel, and Teal'c would probably hate him for what he was about to do, but he couldn't take it anymore. His team had given him a reason to live. He couldn't bear being alone again.

Jack looked at all the pictures on the walls. All the people that had found this secret place to end their suffering and cheat the afterlife by perminately disrupting their 'souls' with a nuclear explosion. He'd been kind of shocked that the rogue nuclear scientists were still in business, but he supposed there were more important and horrendous things for the humanitarians to deal with than a place giving tortured souls an out.

He took a sip of his beer. He would have liked his last drink to be a Guinness but apparently rogue former Soviet nuclear scientists weren't fond of dark Irish ale. Still this Wake Beer wasn't too bad, almost like Budweiser. Jack stared at the label, a creepy looking Grim Reaper with 'WAKE' in big bold letters above him. Odd. He would've thought beer bottled by mad Russian scientists to celebrate stiffing heaven and hell would named something in Russian. Kinda a letdown, like being served a Coke on Chulak. Shouldn't it be Wake vodka anyway?

Jack felt a shiver run up his back as the door banged opened letting in the cold Kazakhstan winter.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen…"

He knew that voice. From a long time ago.

Jack swiveled on his stool, the Wake Beer still clutched between his fingers, to face the woman in the black fox fur coat and hat. She pulled off the big fuzzy hat to reveal a head of auburn hair shot though liberally with grey. The face was more lined then he remembered, but still breathtakingly and delicately beautiful. "Natasha Alianovna Romanova," Jack nodded acknowledging her. "I don't supposed you'd have a Guinness stashed underneath all that fur, do ya?"

"I'm sorry, Jack. I didn't have time to stop by Dublin."

"Shame. It would have been a perfect ending." He turned back around and hunched over his unsatisfying brew, worrying the label.

Natasha sat next to him and concern creasing her brow. "Are you seriously considering this nonsense?"

"Sure. Why not?" he took a swig of his beer.

"The Jack O'Neill I once knew would never consider killing himself."

"Well, I've gone through several incarnations since then, Tasha. Sorry to disappoint."

"Why this way?"

"Eating a piece of lead is soooo cliché and you know how I feel about those."

"Jack…"

"Why are you here anyway?" he turned to look at her, noticing in his beer soaked haze she actually seemed concerned. Strange. "You gonna go all mushroom cloud, too?"

"No," she shook her head. "While we are officially unaware of the existence of this place we do keep track of who seeks to make their end here."

"Ah." Jack nodded in understanding. "And the American operative formally known as the Scarecrow sent up a red flag did he?"

"Not so much anymore. But Colonel O'Neill of Stargate Command does."

He smiled wryly. "I shoulda known you'd have your finger in that. Bet you're the one that recruited Maybourne for that project too."

"Yes." She had the good grace to look a little ashamed.

"Your missing symbiote is running around in the body of that bastard Adrian Conrad."

"I'll look into that."

"Good luck finding him."

They sat in silence for a while. Jack continuing to funnel down beer and Natasha just sat watching him like she was trying to reconcile this worn down beer soaked shell before her and the man she once knew, fought alongside and sometimes against.

"Do you believe in God, Natasha?"

She sat there for a moment considering his question. "I think once when I was very young, I would have liked to, but I turned out to be far too pragmatic. You, Jack?"

Jack shrugged. "When I was a kid I went to parochial school for a while. I think my dad sent me just to antagonize the nuns. He was funny like that. I guess some of that stuff kinda stuck with me. I was married in a church by a priest. I found myself at confession after some of my more disturbing missions. After my unfortunate incarceration in Iraq I stopped going. It seemed God was deaf to my prayers. Then my son died and I lost what tiny bit of faith I might have had left. Since then I've seen too many false gods. Hell, I've even killed a couple. But are there any true gods? All I've seen is smoke and mirrors. I've always wondered about all that reincarnation stuff. What if when I die, Natasha, I won't go to heaven or hell or just cease to exist? What if these nuke geeks are right? What if all of this life crap is just some pointless battle pitting two sides against one another? I'm tired of fighting, Tasha. Nothing is ever gained by it. I'm tired. I'm tired of seeing people get hurt because of me."

"Someone has really done a hell of a number on you ,haven't they?"

"It's been a long road, Tasha." Jack held up his bottle in salute. "To the triumphant dead."

---


	7. Part 6

**See You Space Cowboy **

**Part 6**

---

'_They got a million souls at the lost and found_

_Well you should have known better_

_Dead thoughts and lost horizons_

_And to take it further_

_It don't get any better'_

_Interstate, _The Refreshments

---

Jack slowly regained consciousness with a splitting headache and more than a little disappointment. He should be nonexistent by now, a nuke zapping his soul to oblivion. He lay there a while trying to ignore his nausea. When he was able to concentrate on something other than his roiling stomach and throbbing head, he realized that his arms were stretched above his head and restrained by handcuffs.

Crap.

This wasn't the first time he'd woken up like this and it never was a good thing. He slowly opened his eyes, thankful the room was only softly lit by a single lamp. Jack took in his surroundings and realized he was in a comfortably furnished bedroom handcuffed to the bed. He lifted his head enough to see he still had his clothes on, which was a plus he supposed.

His head sank back into the soft pillow and tried to figure out how he ended up in this position. He was in Kazakhstan drinking his last drink. He was interrupted- Natasha! Damn it! She tranqued him. He'd forgotten about those damn bracelets of hers.

"Natasha! Get your ass in here! Tasha!"

The door opened and Natasha walked graceful in. "You bellowed?" she asked stopping far enough from the bed that he wouldn't be able to attack her with his feet and legs. She crossed her arms over her chest, the gold tubes surrounding her forearms glittered coldly in the lamplight contrasting with her soft black sweater.

"You want to get these things off me?" Jack asked pulling on the cuffs encasing his wrists.

"No."

He tugged on his restraints again. He hated being tied up, bad things always seemed to happen. The Natasha Romanova he once knew wouldn't have harmed him. That was years ago and he was sure she had changed as much as he had. He couldn't be sure now. So he tried to cover his unease as he always did. "So, Tasha, I guess I should have figured you'd be into this sort of thing with that leather cat suit you used to wear. When do we get started?" he tried to leer convincingly at her.

There was a distinct unladylike snort from the red head and a small smile tugged at her lips. "You wish." Her green eyes ran quickly over him appraising his state. "If I release you, will you behave?"

"Or what, you'll punish me?"

"I've forgotten what a ass you can be."

"Are you going to let me up or are am I going to have to be even more obnoxious?"

"Are you not going to attack me and try to escape?"

"Tasha, I'm not even sure I can walk in my present state. But until I get rid of this hangover and figure out what's going on here I promise not to attack you and try to escape."

"Fair enough." Natasha walked closer to the bed and then reached over and unlocked his cuffs.

Jack just lay there rubbing his wrists for a moment and trying to shake some blood back into his numb arms. "How long was I out?"

"About 12 hours."

"Your 'widow's bite'?" he asked glancing at the tubular gold cuffs at her wrists.

"Yes."

He slowly sat up willing the nausea away.

Natasha nodded toward a door of to the side. "Bathroom's in there. You can take a shower and I'll put some coffee on."

"Thanks."

Natasha left. Jack slowly rose to his feet and staggered to the bathroom. There he found a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water. He gratefully downed a couple of pills and turned on the shower. While he waited for the water to heat, he sat down on the lid of the toilet not really wanting to sort through the conflicting emotions and questions rolling around in his head.

---

Jack walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. On the bed he had formerly been tied to, he found the clothes that had previously been tossed into his duffle bag stacked neatly on the bed, freshly laundered. He pulled on a pair of boxers and dark denim jeans. He sat on the edge of the bed to roll his baggy jeans into cuffs at the bottom and put on a pair of socks. He got up and surveyed what little currently existed of his wardrobe. He'd packed rather quickly and not really for the cold weather.

Well, he assumed he was still in a place where it was winter. He walked over to the window and opened the blinds. He was in a room a couple stories up and it was definitely snowing out, not heavily though. The flakes gently fluttered to the snow covered grounded and salted roads. It looked as though he was definitely in a city, but of indeterminate size. It was an older section of town though. It had been at least ten years since he was in this part of the world so he couldn't even really speculate where he was.

He moved back to the bed and picked up a black t-shirt. Over it he put on one of the two long sleeved shirts he had, a Black Watch plaid button down. Jack looked around for his boots but didn't see them. He supposed Natasha thought he wouldn't try to run away though the snow in his stocking feet.

Feeling a little more human now, Jack opened the bedroom door and followed the scent of coffee to a comfortable living room. A silver coffee service sat on the table in front of a plush burgundy couch. Natasha was sitting in a matching chair near the cheery fire. She set down her cup on the table beside her and moved to pour him a cup.

Jack settled on the couch and grateful accepted the coffee and plate off dry toast, which was probably all he could keep down anyway. Natasha went back to her chair, pulling her feet under her, and silently watched as he sipped his coffee and nibbled his toast.

Finally Jack set his plate down on the coffee table. He leaned back in to the cushions of the couch, cradling the fine china cup in his hands. He met Natasha's calm green eyes and asked, "Where are we?"

"St. Petersburg."

"I haven't been here before the end of the Cold War."

"It's changed a lot since then, though many things stay the same. I have tickets for the ballet tomorrow night if you'd like to go."

Jack smiled slightly remembering the first time he'd met her was at the ballet in St. Petersburg nearly twenty years ago. He was supposed to meet a contact, but had ended up 'rescuing' a lady he thought she was being accosted. He had blown both their covers and they were forced to team up to evade capture and complete their objectives, which luckily had been complimentary.

"What it is it? You know I'm not fond of those socialist ballets."

"It's Swan Lake."

"Ah, well, Tchaikovsky. Can't go wrong with that. I suppose if I get to listen to that, I can watch some pretty girls flop around on stage."

"They don't flop," she laughed. "At least they'd better not. They're supposed to be the premier troupe in the country."

"Well, that would be lovely. Not that I have a choice," he told her loosing the teasing tone in his voice.

"You're not a prisoner, Jack."

"What am I?"

"My guest for as long as you want."

"Why did you bring me here? Why didn't you let me die?"

"It would have been a ridiculous waste," Natasha scoffed. "Why do you want to die?"

"I'm tired." He stared down into the dark depths of his cooling coffee. "I'm… I'm tired of being alone."

"You don't have to be."

"Everyone I have ever cared about has been hurt because of me."

She sighed heavily in realization, "You left because your team was threatened."

He nodded still not looking at her. "They're my family. They're all I have. Or had. I won't have them hurt because someone is out to get me."

"So you'll just take yourself out of the picture? Is that it?"

Jack shrugged uncomfortably.

"You don't think your death wouldn't cause your friends pain, especially if it was by your own hand?" He wouldn't meet her eyes. "You're a selfish bastard, Jack." He looked up suddenly angry, but she continued, "They would never forgive themselves if you died because of them, but all you can even think about is wallowing in your own pain. You're not the only person to have been hurt by life and lost what you cared about most. I would have been dead a long time ago if I gave in like you are."

"What do you expect me to do?" he demanded. "I can't take down the whole NID and a United States senator on my own. I'm good, but not quite that good. And I have no doubt that if I tried to make a move on them my friends would suffer."

"I could get you through our Stargate. You could continue the fight with the Tok'ra-"

"I'm not living with those arrogant snaky bastards."

"You could contact the Asgard," she suggested. "You are their favorite human. Surely they would offer you sanctuary."

"Thor's my buddy and all but I don't know if I could permanently hang with him and his little grey pals. I doubt they have beer."

"Just go where you will then. There are planets the SGC visit regularly. You can get word to SG-1. Think about."

He nodded reluctantly. "I will."


	8. Part 7

**See You Space Cowboy**

**Part 7 **

**---**

'_Well I used to be bad_

_I was born to lose_

_And my travelin' shoes was the only shoes I had_

_Well I used to be cool_

_I was that Sunday afternoon,_

_Sunk 'n drunk and stumbling' fool_

'_Till I met your momma'_

_Tell Yer Momma, _Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers

Sam awoke in her former COs bed feeling slightly embarrassed and determined not to allow herself to be so weak again. Colonel O'Neill would be disappointed in her. She forced herself from the bed that still bore traces of his scent.

She locked up the Colonel's house and rushed home for a quick shower and a change of clothes before heading over to the Dixons'. She was halfway there when she realized she'd forgotten she was supposed bring desert and had to double back to a bakery to pick up a cheesecake.

The Dixons' house was a large three story Victorian near the outskirts of town. When she pulled up Daniel's car was in the driveway. He and Teal'c were already there then. The door opened as she made her way up the walk.

"Bout time, Sam. We were wondering what happened to you," Dave Dixon said as he stepped out onto the porch.

"I'm sorry. I almost forgot the desert," she smiled a little nervously, irrationally afraid everyone would know where she had spent the night.

"No big deal," he shrugged and held the door open for her. "Come on in. Hey, cool jacket."

She looked down at the Colonel's mother's jacket, feeling a little uncomfortable at the attention it brought. Perhaps it hadn't been wise to wear it. "Thanks."

He took the box containing the cheesecake. "Hildy!" he bellowed.

"What!" came a return shout.

"Sam's here!"

"Oh," a tall surprisingly elegant brunette said more quietly as she entered the foyer. She wasn't really what she pictured Dixon's wife to look like. She looked absolutely nothing like the mother of the four maniacs he constantly complained about. She expected Mrs. Dixon to look more harried, frazzled and soccer mom-ish, not so pulled together and chic. "Sam, I'm Hildy," she smiled brightly and warmly shook Sam's hand. "It's so good to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you from Dave and Jack."

"Colonel O'Neill?" Sam asked a little startled that Colonel O'Neill mentioned her to Colonel Dixon's wife.

"Oh, yeah," Hildy grinned at her. "Can't say enough good things about you."

"It's nice-"

Just then four little tornadoes blew through the house. "Halt!" their father ordered. "Come say hello to Major Carter." The whirlwinds stopped and slunk into the foyer.

There was a chorus of "Hello, Major Carter."

"These are our little hellions-" Dave began but received a sharp elbow in the ribs. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. Our little angels. Ricky, Nicky, Jimmy, and Kathy."

"Hi there," Sam said surveying the four children. They were all dark haired just like their parents and seemed to range in age from somewhere around ten to four. She smiled down at them. "You can call me Sam if you want."

Daniel poked his head out from a doorway. "Hey, Sam. You're here." He grasped her arm and dragged her through to the house to the living room. "You've got to come see this."

"Geez, Daniel what do they have? An ancient temple in their back yard?"

"Something almost as good." He pulled her to where Teal'c was examining a framed picture.

Teal'c dipped his head to acknowledge her. "Major Carter."

"Hey, Teal'c. What's the big fuss about?" She looked at the picture. "Oh, God… Is that…?"

"Jack."

"Wow."

"Yeah," Daniel said as smugly as if he'd taken the picture himself, not found it hanging in someone's living room.

The frame contained an issue of Life magazine dated August 1983 and the original photograph of the cover appropriately titled 'The Young Gods of War'. It was a group of men standing in a jungle all armed to the teeth. In the center of the group was an impossibly young Jack O'Neill. His wet brown hair was sticking up wildly, a pair of dark aviator sunglasses covered his eyes, and a cigarette dangling from lips formed in a cocky smirk. His chest was bare except for a shoulder holster with a 9 mil stuck in it. There was a bandage wrapped around his left arm, a little blood seeping through to mare the white. His olive BDUs were baggy and slung low at his hips with no belt on. He looked a good deal cleaner than his companions. It seemed like maybe he'd just gotten cleaned up after being treated for his injury and not yet finished dressing when the photo was taken.

Pulling her eyes away from the young O'Neill she was shocked to realize she recognized all the other men. Dave Dixon was there with a scruffy beard and chomping on a cigar, holding an absolutely huge gun, and his sleeved rolled up high over his massive arms. Then there was a younger Colonel Cromwell, though she supposed he wasn't a Colonel then. She had only met him briefly before he died in the black hole incident. There had seemed to be a lot of bad blood between he and Colonel O'Neill and she had always wondered what caused it. Finally was a shockingly baby faced Charles Kawalsky. She very nearly didn't recognize him. All the men looking very dangerous. 'Young Gods of War' was very apt title.

"Hard to believe Jack was ever that young," Daniel commented

"Look at Kawalsky," Sam replied. "He was just a kid."

"A pain in the ass was what he was," Dave said walking up behind them. "It was his first field assignment. He was so green it hurt. ."

"Where was it?"

"Um," he paused for a moment in thought. "I think it's actually still classified."

"Who made this image?" Teal'c asked.

"I did. I'm- or I was a photojournalist," Hildy spoke up. "I was doing a photo essay on special ops. A lot of my photos from that trip are still locked up in the Pentagon."

Sam watched in amusement as Dave gave his wife tight hug from behind. "My baby won a Pulitzer for that."

"For Christ's sake, Dave. I swear you think it was because of your ugly mug that I won."

"Wasn't it?"

---

The day had gone well. Daniel had remained civil to Dave, if still a little on the cold side. At least he wasn't as antagonistic as he had been. He seemed to take a real interest in Hildy though. After lunch the Dixon children had dragged Teal'c and their father off to their fort in the nearby woods. Children are often initially afraid of Teal'c because of his size and dour appearing exterior. However the young Dixons took a real shine to him and hovered around him all day. Daniel had Hildy cornered questioning about her photojournalism career and travels. Even though she was invited to join the expedition to the fort, Sam felt it best to sit with them in case Daniel got a little over zealous in his questioning. She knew how he got when his curiosity got the better of him.

"So you met Colonel Dixon when you were doing a story on their team?" Daniel asked.

"Yeah. Most of my work was related in one way or another to the military or war zones. I always liked military guys. Guess I was a bit of an action junky myself. But I tell you what, Dave and Jack and the rest were some of the craziest bunch of guys I've ever come across. All of them. But I think Dave was a little wilder than rest and that kind of got to me." She smiled a little wistfully. "We had some wild times. I was pretty nuts then too."

"Oh yeah?" he prodded eagerly. Sam almost rolled her eyes. Daniel had the uncanny gift to get people to spill their life stories at the drop a hat.

"Oh, yeah," Hildy grinned and took a sip of her beer. "They second time I ran into Dave I married him."

"No way."

"Yep, West Berlin 1984," she leaned back in her chair and her eyes got that far away look. "I was doing a story on East Berliners coming over the Wall. I ran into Dave and Jack in a bar. We had some drinks and I woke up married to Dave. You wouldn't believe the laugh that Jack got out of it. Probably the reason he didn't stop us." Sam could imagine Colonel O'Neill's immense amusement at the situation.

"And you've been together ever since?"

"Together? No," she shook her head. "Dave and Jack left for their mission that day and I finished my story and headed back to New York. I was so busy developing my film and getting things ready before my deadline that I didn't really give Dave and our 'marriage' much thought. Then he showed up at my place on his next leave. We were going to get it annulled but…" She trailed off and then smirked. "Well, let's just say we didn't really leave my apartment. We kept that sort of thing going for a long time. We'd run into each other occasionally when we were both on assignment. I gravitated to the hot spots and Dave was in SpecOps so he was always around those areas. We'd go on vacation together sometimes when he got leave. It suited us both pretty well. We were both ramblers by nature, not really wanting to be tied down, but we did love each other in our on strange way."

"So what happened?" Daniel asked and Sam prodded him with her elbow, but he never was good at taking a hint. "You're obviously very domestic now."

"Desert Storm," she said, her brashness seeming to fade a little. "I was going out with some of the troops in the aftermath. I stepped on a mine. Blew most of my left leg off, got a lot of shrapnel elsewhere. I wouldn't have made it through all that without Dave. He helped me through all the pain and surgeries and physical therapy. We went through some tough times. We almost got divorced. I wasn't used to having to rely on someone and he wasn't used to being tied down, but it all worked out pretty well in the end."

"Have you gotten back into photojournalism?"

"No. Not with this leg." she tapped on her prosthetic limb. "It actually took me a long time before I could pick up a camera again. It's stupid, but I kind of blamed it for me getting hurt. It's only been these last couple of years, that I've gotten back into photography. I went back to my roots in portraiture. I've been doing some fashion photography lately, mostly ads for Van Dyne." She turned to Sam. "You know I'd like to shoot you sometime. You have a great face."

"Thanks," Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe. One day."

"I mean it, Sam. If the Air Force thing doesn't work out you could go into modeling."

She felt herself flush and decided to switch the conversation focus elsewhere. "So, Hildy, how do you manage a career and four kids? I'm not sure I could handle one."

"We have a nanny. That's one of the reasons we almost got a divorce. Dave would flit off around the globe leaving me to deal with a couple of screaming urchins by myself. I'd rather been out there fighting bad guys. Couldn't be any worse. Speak of the devils."

Sam followed her gaze to see Teal'c and Dave returning, each man had two children slung over their shoulders. Teal'c set the kids he was carrying gentle down. "Hildy Dixon, your children will grow to be formidable warriors."

"Yes, well, Teal'c. I'd wager they'd be a force to be reckoned with now."

"Hell," Sam barely heard Dave mutter. "I'd rather fight a whole passel of snakeheads."


	9. Part 8

**See You Space Cowboy**

**Part 8**

**---**

'_I wonder where I'll be in a year_

_Probably be sittin' right here_

_But if you know the answer_

_Don't tell me anyone_

_I don't wanna know_

'_Don't Wanna Know' - _The Refreshments

During the couple weeks he spent in St. Petersburg, Jack came to a startling realization. His life had not begun the moment he stepped through the Stargate. He'd been nearly knocked on his ass in the middle of the Nevsky Prospect by the very idea. Jack didn't know whether to congratulate himself for moving on so thoroughly or be shocked that he could do it so seemingly easily.

His entire life had been a series of doors that locked out his previous existence. His parents died and he'd moved on to Minnesota and a life with his grandparents. He'd entered the Air Force Academy and locked the door on civilian life. His first love, Carol, had left him and he'd eventually gotten over her with Sara. His dream of being a fighter pilot had ended with a crash and a trek through Eastern Europe and his career changed forever with an offer to join Special Ops. Tons of smaller doors locked away difficult missions and horrors he'd seen or perpetuated. He slammed the door on the four painful months he's spent as a prisoner in Iraq, surprising everyone that he hadn't been discharged or shoved behind a desk. His son had died and he had locked himself away from the rest of the world, but he knew he would never be able to completely move on from his son's death. The wormhole of the Stargate had opened a whole new universe to him. After his wife left him, it had been so easy to shut the door entirely on his previous existence.

All he had to do was close the door on the Stargate and all that it entailed.

Easy, huh?

Easy to shut out the mission and people that had given him a reason to live when he had none. Easier said than done. Dying would have been much easier.

Damn Natasha Romanova.

Of course, he could go through the Russian Stargate as Natasha had offered. He'd almost be willing to live with the Tok'ra if it meant he could have some contact with his fiends again. Old grudges die hard though. It all boiled down to that he didn't trust the Russians and refused to be in their debt.

He trusted Natasha with his life, of course. He'd had to on many occasions through the years. She had never let him down, but what was his life compared to the fate of the planet. Natasha was once one of the KGB's top agents, trained in the infamous Red Room, until she defected to the United States. She had worked for the CIA until the Soviet Union collapsed and she had returned to her homeland to help build the new order. He didn't doubt that she still had considerable ties to the CIA, but that wasn't exactly in her favor either.

Though Natasha promised there was no strings attached in allowing him to go through their Stargate, Jack was too suspicious by nature to believe that she would do all that just out of the goodness of her heart. He didn't doubt she didn't want to see him kill himself. He would have stopped her just as she stopped him. Natasha was too much of an operator for him to believe she didn't intend to collect on the favor at some point if he went through her Stargate.

So it seemed he couldn't move on and he couldn't go 'home' as it were, but he could open a couple of doors to the life he once led.

It'd give him something to do with his time.

---

Jack had bid Natasha goodbye and thanked her for her hospitability if not saving his life. He was glad to be leaving Russia. While it was fascinating to see all the sights he never got to see while skulking around undercover, long ago conditioning made him nervous about being in a place long considered enemy territory.

Jack hopped a plane to Singapore and from there to Madripoor. Look up 'den of iniquity' in the dictionary and there's a map of Madripoor. The island had once been a British colony with long history of piracy, slavery, and smuggling. Because of it's anti-extradition laws, it was quite frequently the home away from home to all manner of international criminals. Madripoor had always been a hot bed of intrigue and criminality, so it had frequently been a staging point and base of operations for the covert and mercenary community.

He checked into the Ritz-Carlton and went to a nearby gun shop. He bought a new 9mm and some ammo, before making his way down to Lowtown and the Princess Bar. He was sure to find at least one of his old comrades there. Lowtown wasn't really a smart place to walk around unarmed. In Madripoor, you're either predator or prey and Jack had been away far too long to be recognized as a predator. He'd have to earn his reputation all over again.

Jack stood outside the slightly derelict looking building and gazed up at the flickering neon sign. This place certainly brought back memories. He patted his new gun beneath his leather jacket and headed inside. He sauntered up to the bar coolly ignoring the other patrons assessing looks. He smirked a little bit when he recognized the bartender, former CIA agent Jessica Drew. She obviously didn't recognize him, which he really didn't blame her. He'd changed a lot in the decade since they'd last met. He was a lot… greyer. She still looked pretty much the same. Her hair was quite a bit shorter and it was still dark, though she probably colored it.

She seemed terribly unimpressed by him and his smirk. "What'll you have?" she demanded shortly.

"Good to see you too, Spider."

Her eyebrows shot up in shock and curiosity. "Should I know you?"

"I should hope so. Afghanistan 1992 ring any bells? A particularly windy day in Kabul and you in a lovely burka?"

She stared at him and he could see her mentally going down the roster of all the men that had been on that mission. "Scarecrow? Jack?"

"In the flesh."

"I thought you were dead."

"Yes, well, you know what the old cliché is about that one."

"Shit, Jack, where have you been? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, y'know, retracing my roots." Jessica was still staring at him like she'd seen a ghost. "I'm alive, honest. A little worse for wear, but otherwise…"

"Patch!" she yelled and gestured wildly at someone behind him. "Get your ass over here!"

Jack turned around on his stool and watched the short man walk over to him. He recognized him instantly even with the cowboy hat pulled low over his face and the patch over his left eye. Logan took a puff off of his stogie and exhaled slowly. "Ain't you supposed to be dead, bub?"

"Not that I'm aware of, but it seems to be the general consensus in these parts. Did someone claim to kill me?"

"Nope. Ya just dropped completely off the radar. Usually means yer dead."

"Ah."

"Whatcha doin' here?"

"Reliving old times."

Logan gave him a long hard look and seemed to size up Jack's physical condition and battle worthiness. "Ya up for some action?"

"Always."

---


	10. Part 9

**See You Space Cowboy**

**Part 9**

_---_

'_So give me a sign, amigo_

_Did you go down laughing when you finally fell._

_We had tales to tell, we had songs to sing_

_Did you get your horns or did they give you wings,_

_Well, either works just as well_

'_The Ashes of San Miguel', _Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers

Dave Dixon parked in his driveway and just sat there for a few minutes, working up the energy to go into the house. The kids were all at school so he didn't have to worry about putting on front for them. He was way too tired from the last 72 hours to have any energy to pretend to be okay. Finally, he got out of the car and trudged into the house.

Maggie, their housekeeper and nanny, poked her head out of the kitchen. She gave him a critical once over. He didn't imagine he looked so hot. "Dave? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he waved her concern away. "It's just been a helluva week, Maggie."

"I just made some brownies. Do you want one?"

"Nah. Thanks, Maggie. Hildy in the basement?"

"Yeah."

Dave nodded and headed for the basement stairs. He made his way down and through the workroom filed with light tables and the safes containing Hildy's negatives and prints. He opens the dark room door and walked the two turns of the maze before he came into the red lit room. His wife was bent over an enlarger and didn't noticed his entrance. He sat down on the stool near the long shallow sink where her pans of developing chemicals were set out. The enlarger timer went off and she began to carry the undeveloped print to the sink, only then did she realize she had a visitor.

Hildy jumped, startled. "Christ, Dave. You scared the shit out of me." She put the print into the developer and turned on the timer. She walked over to her husband and studied him carefully. He flinched under her scrutiny. "What happened?"

"Teal'c's dead."

"Oh, God. Can you tell me how it happened?" she asked. That was his good little military wife. Not demanding to know how it happened, but asking if she could know.

"I can't really go into details. It was kind of a lab accident, I guess. Teal'c was trapped. We couldn't get him out." He rubbed his eyes with his hands and laughed harshly. "Sam got locked up in the brig. They sent this egotistical asshole of a scientist from the Pentagon to help her get Teal'c out, but all he did was hit on her and call her a dumb blonde. After Teal'c… died, the bastard said something and Sam just snapped and socked him. Broke his freakin' nose. Shit, she probably would have killed him if we hadn't pulled her off. God, not that I would have blamed her. If she wouldn't have hit him I sure as hell would have."

"Are they going to court martial her?"

"No, Doctor McKay wouldn't press charges. I didn't even have to lean on him. Guess the slimy little geek felt guilty for mocking her when he should have been working on a way to help Teal'c."

The timer buzzer went off and Hildy quickly transferred her print from the developer to the stop. She sloshed it around for a few seconds before moving it to the fix. She came back to her husband and he looked up at her. "Jack's gonna kill me."

"Well, he ought to have his sorry ass where it belongs!"

"Hildy…"

"No, Dave. I don't care," she crossed her arms over her chest and grit her teeth. He hoped Jack never ran into Hildy again. She was likely to break his nose at the very least. Since meeting SG-1 she had become very fond of them and angry at Jack for abandoning people who cared so much for him. "He just can't dump all his responsibilities in your lap. I'm sure you did everything in your power to help Teal'c. Jack couldn't have done any more. Where the hell did he go anyway?"

"It's complicated, Hildy."

"What isn't where Jack O'Neill is concerned? Is he on a mission?"

"Who?"

"Jack."

"No."

"Is he dead?"

"Not that I know of."

"Imprisoned?"

"I don't guess."

"Then where did he go?"

"He just left."

"Why?"

"Hildy…" She glared at him, her dark eyes glimmering harshly in the red light. "Okay," he relented. He didn't have the energy to get in a battle of wills with his wife, besides the basics weren't really classified. "Sam was kidnapped a couple of month ago. Jack got to her just before they killed her. Couple of days later, Sam and Jack took Doc Fraiser's kid to the park and a sniper wounded Cassie and killed her dog. On the way to the hospital, Doctor Jackson got into a wreck that almost killed him. His brakes had been tampered with."

He watched as understanding dawned. "Someone wanted Jack out of picture, but they wanted him hurt more than dead."

"Yep. That's what I figure."

"Do you think Teal'c's accident is part of it?"

"No."

Using tongs, Hildy picked up her print from the fix and dropped it in the water bath. She turned back to Dave and tugged him off the stool. He wrapped his arms around her and just held her tightly for a few minutes. Finally, she pulled out of his embrace. "C'mon, Dave," she took his hand and pulled him to the door. "You need to get some rest. You look like shit. When's the last time you slept?"

"So long ago I can't remember."

They slowly made their way out of the basement and upstairs to their bedroom. Hildy helped him get undressed and he sank gratefully into the bed. He watched as his wife pulled off the headband that was constraining her unruly dark hair and then stripped down to her tank top and panties. He was glad the she had gotten past her shyness over prosthetic leg with him. It had taken quite a while and a couple of kids before she would get undressed in front of him without the room being dark. She had a beautiful body and he'd never been bothered by her false limb. It was now a part of his wife just as much as all his scars were a part of him.

She crawled into the bed and snuggled up close him. "When's the funeral?"

"There wasn't a body. There'll be a memorial service at the base tomorrow."

"Is Sam still locked up?"

"No. Doctor Jackson took her home. He'll probably hold this against me too." He sighed trying to relax enough to let his exhausted body go to sleep, but his mind just kept replaying the events over and over in his mind.

A sharp poke in his ribs broke him from his reverie. "Stop blaming yourself, Dave. It's not your fault. I'll let you know when you need to blame yourself."

"Yes, you will. Don't know what I'd do without you. Love ya, honey," he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Go to sleep."

"Yes, ma'am."

---

Jack had been in Madripoor a month now and it hadn't taken him very long to reestablish his rep. The job he'd joined Logan on the first night he'd been in town had helped a lot. He had helped Logan defend some assets of Madripoor's leading crime boss, Tyger Tiger. The former banker turned crime lord, or lady as she was most definitely a woman, had been suitably grateful and any friend of Logan's she found to be a very good ally. A couple of fights at the Princess Bar and being known as an old friend and comrade of such tough operators such as Logan, Cole Cash, and Michael Cray didn't hurt either. Though hanging around Cole and Logan with their combined cigarette and cigar smoke, he his old friend, nicotine, called his name again. Jack soon found himself laying in a stock pile of Malbourough Reds.

He had become a landowner as well, winning a city block worth of buildings in a poker game. The block was on the river and had once been a very fashionable part of the city until Hightown became a conglomeration a futuristic skyscrapers after World War Two. Now the area was neither the playground of the rich of Hightown nor the poor slums of Lowtown. Midtown, he guessed, it was. The block contained several shops, a brothel, and a restaurant. He took up residence on the third story of the building housing the restaurant. The great thing was he never had to cook and didn't have go far to eat.

His fortune had further improved when he helped one of the mistresses of the Prince of Madripoor out of a jam. He hadn't realized who she was until someone banged on his door one morning and handed him a set of car keys, "With his highness's compliments." Parked in the street was a sleek new black Nissan Skyline GT-R.

All in all it hadn't been a bad month for Jack until Harry Maybourne waltzed into the Princess Bar. Jack had been sitting at a table in the corner sharing drinks and stories with Cole Cash and Michael Cray when Harry had once again shown up like a bad penny. Jack carefully set his drink down and mashed out his cigarette. He drew his 9 mil and squeezed off one round, hitting Maybourne in the arm.

Harry collapsed on the floor clutching his arm. "Jaaack," he whined. "What was that for?"

Jack stood over him as Cash and Cray looked on amused. "You shot me, you rat bastard. Consider this payback."

Harry levered himself upright. "I didn't shoot you, you idiot. It was Simmons when he got away with Conrad."

"Did ya come all this way just to tell me that?"

"No. Teal'c's dead."

"What?"

"Teal'c's dead, Jack."

"You better not be lying to me, Harry or I'll shoot you again, somewhere a lot worse than your arm."

"I'm not."

"How?"

Harry shifted his eyes to the men seated at the table.

Jack let out an exasperated breath asked Cole and Cray, "You mind giving us a few minutes?"

"You sure?" Cole asked.

"Yeah, I'll just shoot him again if he gives me any trouble."

Cole picked up his drink with Cray following though not before the big man gave Maybourne a dark and intimidating look.

Jack sat down back at the table. Harry picked himself up off the floor and sat opposite him. "Okay, Harry. What happened?"

Harry began to explain the story and Jack didn't interrupt him. "SG-1 was heading back through the gate, an Al'kesh had been pursuing them. Teal'c hit it and it crashed into the gate just as he was coming through. The gate was destroyed and Teal'c never materialized on the others side. Seems his energy pattern was stuck in the gate. The Pentagon sent Simmons with orders that gave Major Carter 48 hours to get him out again, but she couldn't do it. Doctor Jackson even managed to get the Russians to let us borrow their DHD, but by the time he got back with it, it was too late. The time limit was up. Teal'c's energy pattern was erased the next time the gate opened. They had moved the iris to prevent the gate from opening during the 48 hours. Dave Dixon tried to buy a little more time by ordering Siler to take as long as possible in reopening it. He and Siler even sabotaged one of the welders but it didn't get them enough time."

Jack was staring down into his glass, not even seeing the ice melting in the whiskey. He couldn't believe it. Teal'c dead. Not even going out in battle in glorious Jaffa fashion, just a energy pattern never to rematerialize again. It seemed so anticlimactic.

"Jack, are you listening to me?"

"Yeah, Harry," Jack glanced back at him. "What else?"

"Simmons tried to court martial Major Carter. She-"

"WHAT?"

"Simmons's had brought a scientist from Area 51 to help Major Carter, but it seems he was more a hindrance than a help. After Teal'c… died, she punched the guy, breaking his nose. I hear it took Dixon and a couple of SFs to pull her off. The scientist refused to press charges so Simmons had no grounds…"

Jack stood abruptly. He couldn't stand to hear anymore. His mind barely processing Harry's story, Jack left him sitting there, bleeding and staring after him.

TBC


	11. Part 10

A/N- Finally an update. I also revised the preceding chapters for a couple of errors and such. I think my life has settled enough at the moment that I will be able towork regularlyon my fic once more. Igoing to tryto post at least one chapter every other week until commplete. I hope people are still interested.

* * *

**See You Space Cowboy**

**Part 10**

* * *

"_They got a million souls at the lost and found_

_Well you should have known better_

_Dead thoughts and lost horizons_

_And to take it further _

_It don't get any better"_

_Interstate_, The Refreshments

* * *

Sam couldn't believe she was here. 

A front row seat at New York's Fashion Week was the very last place in several galaxies she'd imagine being a week after one of her dearest friends had died.

A week after she'd been unable to save Teal'c.

No one blamed her, of course. They thought she'd done her best with the 48 hour deadline. She blamed herself though. Maybe if she hadn't let that bastard McKay get under her skin so much she could have pulled a miracle out of her as- hat. Her hat. She could still feel the satisfying crunch against her hand as his nose had cracked. She was lucky McKay hadn't pressed charges. She couldn't understand why he didn't. She would have killed him if they hadn't pulled her off.

If she couldn't believe she was here, she certainly couldn't believe she had been ordered to come here. Whoever heard of an Air Force general ordering one of his subordinates to spend a week attending fashion shows and parties in New York. But General Hammond had and here she was with her CO's wife as warden. She knew why he had, of course. Everyone was so afraid she was finally snapping after what had happened in the last few months. How they figured an enforced vacation would bring back Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c she had no idea. That would be the only way she would ever been 'alright' again.

As she watched the women parade across the runway, she thought Teal'c would have been fascinated by the whole experience. He'd always enjoyed experimenting with Earth fashion, perhaps a little too much at times. She wondered if the Goa'uld had fashion designers. And if they didn't, then who came up with that whole gold lame Siegfried and Roy Las Vegas kitsch look.

Sam couldn't deny there was the girly side of her was enjoying the whole experience just a tiny bit, though it wasn't like she could ever afford any of these clothes. Sam and Hildy were currently at the Van Dyne show. They had gone backstage before the show to meet the designer, who it seemed was a close friend of Hildy's. Janet Van Dyne was a talkative multitasking whirlwind, who simultaneously carried on a conversation with them while orchestrating the grand chaos of models, hairdressers and make-up artists. Sam thought she would make a very good general, though a very tiny one. She also decided that all Janets must be destined to be very short people.

* * *

Sam stood by herself wearing the simple little black dress she had once thought elegant and sophisticated. Now she felt gauche and shabby amongst all the Armani, Chanel, and Prada the people around her wore. Janet Van Dyne had greeted them warmly when they had arrived. Hildy went around to mingle. Janet taken Sam in hand and had dragged her around introducing her to people she had no way of really carrying on a conversation. What did a theoretical astrophysicist who fought evil aliens for a living had to say to a fashion editor who believed the future of fashion was dependant on the various subcultures of Japanese youth. 

Sam thought she was going to be saved from spending the whole night nodding along to vapid conversation when Janet introduced Sam to her estranged husband, the biochemist Doctor Hank Pym. Unfortunately, it didn't take long for Sam to figure out why they were estranged. His arrogance and self-centeredness reminded her of McKay, but his belligerence made her uneasy. Luckily he was soon bored with her and Sam managed to find a corner to fade into.

"Fancy meeting you here."

Or so she thought. She looked up and expected a drunken come on and was pleasantly surprised to see someone she actually knew. "Mr. Stark!"

"Major Carter, may I join you?"

"Please," Sam said smiling up at him and he settled down next to her on the small sofa.

"I took the liberty of getting you a drink," he said passing her a dirty martini.

"Thank you, Mister Stark. I could probably use one."

"Tony, please."

"And you can call me Sam."

"So, Sam, how do you find yourself in this mad house?"

"I came with Hildy Dixon." She leaned closer to him and whispered conspiratorially. "This really isn't my scene."

Tony glanced around the room then focused on her with charming smile. "No, as I recall your scene was being up to your elbows in an experimental engine."

* * *

Sam felt guilty and hung-over as she made her way into the lobby of the Rihga Royal. Sam had drunk a lot last night. Tony had drunk even more. They had ditched the Van Dyne party and ended up at the Stark Technology headquarters. Tony had shown off some his latest designs and experiments. Sam had wondered before intoxication over came her why he would house his experimental labs and technologies in a skyscraper in the middle of Manhattan. But after a couple more drinks she wasn't very concerned about his safety protocols. 

They had discussed all manner of technical things until the wee hours of the morning. Drank and discussed, both finding it refreshing to speak with someone (and an altogether not unattractive someone) on the same intellectual level about the science that obsessed them both. They emptied two of the bottles of fine scotch that Tony had had in his office.

For a little while Sam managed to forget her real life in the blur of technobabble, scotch, and sex she couldn't quite remember. She awaked naked in bed next to an unconscious Tony with one of the worst hangovers in her life. And she didn't care, because this was not her world. Soon enough she would have to return to the reality of the Colonel's abandonment, Teal'c's death, and a seemingly never ending war.

Best of all Tony Stark was absolutely nothing like Colonel O'Neill. He was smooth and dashing and she didn't have to edit her conversation and put it in the simplest words possible.

So why did she feel so guilty stumbling into the suite she shared with Hildy?

Hildy looked up from where she lacing up her tall black boots. "You look like shit."

Sam collapsed on the couch beside her. "I feel like shit."

Hildy stood and smoothed out her long forest green skirt. "Did you have a good time?"

"I think so, she said leaning back into the couch and closed her eyes against the light streaming in from the window. "I don't really remember. We talked a lot. He showed me some of the experimental stuff he's working on."

"Well, I'm off to Ralph Lauren. Why don't you sleep this off and I'll pick you up for dinner."

"I'm sorry, Hildy."

"For what?"

"For being like this."

"Sam, I'm not your mother or your keeper. You don't owe me any apologies. Sometimes we all need to go a little wild. Something I think you could do a little more. Why do you think I brought here, somewhere out of your safe little environment? You need unwind before you implode."

"Then why do I feel so guilty?"

"Because Tony Stark isn't Jack O'Neill. But you gotta get over that, Sam. Jack isn't coming back."

"I know."

* * *

Jack couldn't categorically state he never enjoyed killing people. Most times it was just because it had to be done, a nameless target he'd been assigned to take out, someone in the way of his objective, or some poor slob a lot like him that just happened to salute the wrong flag. 

Other times he relished every second of the life taking, the sticky blood spilling over his hand as his knife opened the bastard's throat or the satisfying snap-crunch of the son of a bitch's neck breaking beneath his hands. The people that Jack exulted in and savored their death never died quickly from a far away sniper's bullet. Those people died up close and personal and generally not quickly, because they had committed a crime that hurt Jack very personally. Jack was the hand of vengeance in those moments and he reveled in it.

Doctor Rodney McKay, recently assigned to help the Russians build Naquada generators, died such a death. His body, beaten nearly beyond recognition with a killing wound caused by a double bladed knife to the neck, was found in an alley in the worst section of Moscow. Police believed Dr. McKay had strayed too far off the beaten path and met his untimely end at the hands of a street gang. No arrests were ever made.

Jack returned to Madripoor. He sat at his usual table with the usual people and drank his usual drink. No questions were asked. The funny thing was, Jack had forgotten as he did every time that exacting vengeance did not fill the hole in his heart .

He left the Princess Bar earlier than usual that night his restlessness unable to be calmed despite the alcohol. He knew that night would end in some sort of confrontation because he was spoiling for a fight. He knew that would not stop the hurt just as killing McKay had not.

TBC


End file.
